


Fetch

by klained



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff, Puppy Love, Romance, Secret Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-31
Updated: 2013-10-31
Packaged: 2017-12-31 00:34:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1025247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klained/pseuds/klained
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sandor likes when she asks him to get things for her.<br/>Prompted by bighound-littlebird on tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fetch

Some days, Sandor hated his job. He was a trained Hound and the king’s killer. He should be at the king’s side, ready to kill at a word. He wasn’t meant to be babysitting some little bird, listening to her chirp about how wonderful it would be as queen, watching her sew her wedding dress.

"Sandor," she called, leaning over the edge of a couch, trying to grasp something behind a corner table. "I can’t reach my sewing basket. Can you please get it for me?"

He growled and grumbled as he reached around her right. From this close, she could see his every scar, his missing ear. Let her look, let her see he was no tame lapdog to retrieve, but a monster, a Hound to be feared.

Sansa grinned brightly as he straightened with the basket. “Thank you, se- Sandor,” she chirped before returning to her sewing. For a brief moment he wanted to see her smile that way at him, but he quickly recovered.

With nothing else to do he looked around the room. It was strewn with trinkets, silks, and baubles. Portable gilding for her cage. A well worn book caught his attention and he picked it up. It wasn’t something Joff or Cercei would normally give.

"My mother gave me that on my last name day." He covered his start at finding her watching him, looking right at the ruined mess of his face. "It has some of my favorite stories."

"Life isn’t like your stories, little bird," he snapped. He placed the book on a high shelf. She wants her stories, she will have to ask for them.

"I know it isn’t. But there is still more good in life than what others can see." She returned to the little gold lions she was embroidering.

He scowled to himself as the day wore on. She continued her chirping, sometimes humming, or telling stories, other times speaking of Winterfell or singing. When she asked about his childhood, he kept the answers short but truthful. Little ladies knew nothing about being raised a Lannister hunting dog. They only knew their tales of pretty knights and gentle princes.

At last, she quieted and set down her sewing. She flexed her tired fingers as she glanced up at her book.

"Sandor, I would like to read now. Can you please get my book for me?"

He couldn’t put the ferocity into his growls as he retrieved the book. He said nothing when she smiled up at him and thanked him. As she started to read, he tucked the basket behind the corner table to fetch tomorrow. Perhaps this job wasn’t all bad.


End file.
